Candid Camera
by paradoxical
Summary: [ Draco, Hermione, Ron ] Hermione, slowly easing into the art of photography, finds beauty beyond the cold-hearted and enigmatic Draco Malfoy while behind the camera.
1. candid

**Title:** Candid Camera

**Email:** quixotical gmail . com

**Rating:** PG-13

**Categories:** Romance

**Warning(s):** Meh, none yet.

**Summary:** Hermione learns there are more than a thousand words for every picture she takes.

**Notes:** Revised! And this is a good thing because I originally hit a writer's block. And if that isn't the most cliché summary ever.

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_ chapter one: candid_

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It was a worthy opportunity for a well-deserved picture.

He was standing against the wall of the archway, leaning slightly forward on his Firebolt as he grinned at the exaggerated gestures of his friend, occasionally nodding or shaking his head and making his own hand movements. He was dressed in his Quidditch robes, fine silk in crimson threads draped over his five-nine stature. Then, his friend opposite him -- the one with flaming red hair and freckles spattered across his face -- whispered something in low tones, and he laughed, emerald eyes dancing in mirth.

A flash of light erupted in front of them, a light far different from natural sunlight, and then fading into nothing.

Ron appeared as if blinded, rubbing his eyes with closed fists and blinking rapidly, an uncertain smile on his lips.

"We already have a Colin Creevey at this school, Hermione."

Hermione shook her head, watching the photo slipping carefully from the Polaroid.

"I know." Hermione said. "But Colin uses a wizarding camera, and I use a Muggle camera, which doesn't make me Colin Creevey."

Ron furrowed his brows.

"Aren't they the same?"

"What, the cameras? Of course not, Ron. Muggle photos don't move."

Ron blinked, leaning forward with crossed arms to inspect the curious contraption in his friend's hands.

"Dad would_ love_ that."

Hermione's eyes widened in shock and turned her body with the camera snug against her chest, as if to protect her possession from possible harm.

"Do _not_ think about it, Ronald Weasley. No chance of this being picked apart."

Ron snorted. "Well, then, what do you expect to do with it?"

She rolled her eyes.

"I'm taking pictures and putting them in my scrapbook, of course! Honestly."

"Hermione. The year hasn't ended just yet." Harry said, adjusting his glasses on his face.

"I know that. It's for memories, Harry. Surely, _you_ have a scrapbook of your own." She looked at him pointedly.

Harry cleared his throat and looked down, seemingly interested in the too-green grass sprouting from the ground.

The Trio were a week into the first semester of their Seventh Year. The boys had absently took notice of the camera Hermione held in her hands on the train before they arrived at Hogwarts but had soon forgotten about it. Harry had, of course, recognised it but being as he did, he cared naught about its use -- more simply the reason why Hermione was interested in it.

"Do you want to see the picture I took of you, Harry?" Hermione asked, holding out her hand with the slip of film held between her fingers.

Ron frowned. "_Only_ Harry?"

"There's more than just 'taking a picture', Ron. He just happened to be 'more than just the picture' at that moment."

Both Harry and Ron shared confused glances before staring at her in what could be classified as shock.

"I don't intend to take pictures the whole year." She explained. "There's still the tests to consider and -

"We get it, Hermione." The two boys said in unison, interrupting her mid-sentence.

Harry turned the picture and looked at it.

"I look okay, I s'pose." He muttered and handed it back to her. "It's a real good picture, though."

"It is," agreed Ron. "In fact, it's actually better than those moving pictures. Harry looks alive."

The Boy Who Lived apparently took offence in the harmless (yet possibly insinuating) comment because no sooner had the redhead spoke, he muttered something that sounded suspiciously like _'wanker.'_

"It's all about technique, Ron. Professor Dahrnay taught me that."

Ron leaned closer to Harry and whispered, "Another Lockheart."

"No!" she exclaimed defiantly. "Professor Dahrnay is a much better teacher and _knows_ his profession really well. He's brilliant."

Harry looked at Ron and they both nodded in agreement.

"Definitely another Lockheart."

"You two look like you've been hit with the Cruciatus Curse." Seamus observed, noting the look of pain etched subtly in their expressions. He smirked then. "You said something stupid again, didn't you?"

"To Hermione? Yes." Ron groaned, sitting slowly at the Gryffindor table.

Hermione soon appeared behind them, taking her usual seat across from them and looking more haughty than usual. Seamus, intrigued, moved closer to the female Gryffindor.

"You hexed them, didn't you?"

"Of course not."

"You punched them?"

"Of course not."

Desperately. "_What did you do?"_

Hermione sniffed. "_I_ didn't do anything."

"What?"

"Her bloody, mangy cat mauled us to death!" Ron exclaimed. "That cat should be locked up in your room, you know that?"

"I'm not about to imprison him, _Ron_!" she shot back. "He can go wherever he pleases!"

He glared at her.

"One of these days, I won't be alive to tell you what's happened to me. And you know why?"

"No, and I really don't care to -

"Because your cat will have killed me, that's why!"

Harry patted his friend's arm gently while Seamus slowly backed away, still slightly amused by the usual banter between Hermione and Ron.

"Stop being so dramatic."

"I am not being dramatic. I'm telling you what _could_ happen if your cat continues to go about, unwante-

There was a flash of light and suddenly nothing.

Ron blinked, seeing floating diamonds and spots of purple before his eyes. Vision cleared, he narrowed his eyes.

"What was that for?" he demanded, annoyed.

She tossed him the picture, a photo with a furious expression on Ron's face, cheeks flushed in anger, eyes a stormy blue.

"That's your moment of glory." She snatched the photo away from him. "And now it's gone. If you'll excuse me."

"Two minutes," Dean noted. "I think that's a record."

"Shut up, you wanker."

- - -

Hermione walked near the shoreline of the pond, dragging her feat along the wispy greens that lightly wavered in the warm breeze. She stopped, then, just beneath the umbrella leaves of the weeping willow. She brought the camera to her eyes, scanning the area for any meaningful moments or subtle effects she could capture with just one click. Everything tonight was photogenic but it seemed so little at this point in time.

And there it was.

A girl. Leaning her head on someone's shoulder. Staring at nothing except darkness (for the moon was directly above them). They were quiet -- no sweet nothings or affectionate whispers -- just sitting down with no real purpose except to exist. Her legs were bent at the knee, her calves outstretched to her right. The one beside her, a male she assumed, had one leg stretched out and the other propped up, a pose seemingly relaxed but a better one for reflection or melancholy.

Her finger slipped, clicking the button, the flash reflecting off the dark canvas of sky. She held her breath. Truth be told, she hadn't meant to take the picture. The moment seemed a little too intimate to take and she definitely toed the line at intimacy, even if her professor had told her that intimacy was definitely powerful if taken at the right angle and the correct way.

She quickly ran behind the tree, obscuring herself from their view. As the photo was delivered, she pulled it from the object and gulped.

She had taken it just the way she saw it, their backs toward her. Except it produced something slightly different than what she had seen. At the last minute, the boy turned his head to face her, expressionless but his eyes showing expectancy and seriousness and a stare a naturally brooding Slytherin would be apt.

Draco Malfoy had caught her red-handed.

And he was looking none too happy.

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_next: admiration's composition_

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scenes and photogenic properties © paradoxical

_( aka, grandfilth, undead poet, archaic beauty )_

I wanted more complexities, and a laughing!Draco did not do. Attempted to put them more in-character, but I might have just ruined them further. Bleh.


	2. fine aestheticism

Happy Valentine's Day! Here is the chapter I promised! Still, I have so much to do. Grah! On another note, I wrote _several_ drabble fics ... some angst, romance, and ... (coughsmutcough) but it was all the bunny's fault, I swear. Actually, the as I've called it isn't really graphic. I like to call it hardcore R, but whatever suits you.   
  
________________  
**Candid Camera**  
_paradoxical_  
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It was a very unusual picture. It made her that much curious about the boy whom she had grown to despise with every fiber of her being. The picture confused her because she could find no trace of emotion that made Draco Malfoy who he was--a Malfoy. She wanted to burn the picture because she found that she was afraid of it. She feared it because it was genuine. She feared it because his smile struck a chord inside of her. Hermione Granger feared it because she knew such feelings--no matter how vague or blurred--should never be considered.  
  
Her eyes glanced at the position of the moon. Looking at it, she knew it wouldn't be long before curfew rolled around. Her gaze switched over to the castle. She had excused herself from dinner before the other students finished to get some time alone. She wanted to think. She wanted to inspect the picture further without being interrogated by Harry or Ron.  
  
Hermione dug into her pockets to fish out the picture she took out early that afternoon. She smiled, softly. Harry grew up to be an exact replica of his father when he was younger. He had gentle features and windswept, coal-black hair which framed a set of bottle-greens that could rival any of the most fragile emeralds. His body, lean and athletic, was hidden underneath his crimson quidditch robes and his hands were enclosed in a set of black, fingerless gloves.  
  
She held up the picture she had, inadvertently, taken of Draco and held the two pictures at the same level. Tilting her head to the side, she observed the two stills with silent interest. Upon inspecting it further, she was surprised at the conclusion she came up with. Harry and Draco, two polar opposites, may wish to do away with each other, may want the other to fall off the edge of the universe, but on the outside they were alike in more ways than one. Do away with bloodlines and forturne, and these two youths were very much the same.  
  
They had the same spark in their eyes and the same charm in their smile. They were lean and strong and had a leader's quality to them. Outside the picture--something she had noticed as well--they shared the same passion for quidditch, and they put a lot of effort into everything they did. It was uncanny the way they shared the same qualities. They were rivals, yes. They had different moralities, yes. But they were human and as she had come to learn, everyone was alike in some form or another.  
  
Before she could slip the photos back into her pockets, a pair of hands slid themselves over her eyes, shielding them from the moonlit scenery. She sighed and bit her bottom lip, looking thoughtful. She smiled, suddenly, knowing there was only one person who smelled curiously like chocolate.   
  
Ron Weasley.  
  
Hermione covered her hands over the culprit's own and gave a soft little hum before removing them. She looked over her shoulder and shot him a cheeky smile.  
  
Ron complimented her with a grin and fingered absently at his tie and loosened it around his neck.  
  
He didn't look too bad, she thought. In fact, with his firegold locks illuminated in moonlight, his lightly freckled skin, and decent muscle, he was good-looking. But, sadly, thoughts like that were for naught--especially if it was associated with a good friend. She broke away from her daze when he spoke.  
  
Not at the library ... He trailed off with a contemplative look, Odd. Just ... odd.  
  
She smacked him, playfully.  
  
Not funny.  
  
He shrugged and looked at the two pictures in her hands. After sliding his gaze over to Padma's picture, he grimaced. After all, he knew who it was in the background and, being a Weasley, smited all things named Malfoy or who looked suspiciously like a ferret--to which Hermione would always argue otherwise, and Ron would ignore her because to him, Draco Malfoy would always resemble a rat.  
  
Hermione held out her hand with the picture of Draco in it.  
  
It isn't that bad, you know.  
  
I know it isn't bad, Ron replied, but his face just ruins the beauty of it.  
  
She wanted to say that Draco was handsome--how could anyone say otherwise?--and suited the picture, beautifully. Of course, knowing Ron, he would probably look at her as if she suddenly grew two more heads and would stop speaking to her for a few days--or weeks, if he felt like it.  
  
She shrugged, I think it looks fine.  
  
Without his face in it. Ron supplied.  
  
Hermione shook her head and tucked the pictures into her pockets.  
  
Ron Weasley, she said, you wouldn't know fine art if it came and bludgeoned you to smithereens.  
  
His brows furrowed for a moment at her choice of words but shrugged it off just the same. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked at her, expectantly.  
  
I think I'd know fine art if I saw it. He said, huffily.  
  
Hermione arched a slender brow. Fishing her camera from a hidden pocket deep within her robes, she held it out to him. He looked at her with a questioning glint in his eye.  
  
If you're so sure of yourself, take a picture.  
  
He took the device into his hands and made a face at her.  
  
I suppose this is because you don't have faith in my artistic abilities.  
  
She shook her head and replied, I never said that.  
  
Ron shot her a funny look.  
  
Okay, fine, she relented. I'm a bit doubtful. I need proof.  
  
He shook his head. So practical.  
  
Hermione resisted the urge to hit him again and waited.   
  
He looked at his surroundings, his eyes inspecting every inch of ground, every movement--anything worthy of being captured into a paper memory. His blue eyes swept over the lake, noticed the bird readying to take flight. He lifted the camera, ready to snap a picture, but withdrew at the last minute. Picture-worthy as it was--nature in progress--that wasn't exactly what he was looking for.  
  
What he was looking for was something mesmerizing and beautiful. He wanted every aspect of beauty in his picture. He looked at the moon--should he take one?--and shook his head.  
  
Anytime now, Ron. She said before looking away, trying to amuse herself with something other than waiting for her friend to snap a single--and simple--picture.  
  
His blue, piercing gaze settled on the girl in front of him. Would she mind? She would be the lovely foreground, a vision of shy beauty as her face was turned away. He had learned a long time ago that anything that seems to evade you is the most precious, the most beautiful. Looking through the camera, the girl in front of him seemed to be doing just that. Of course, she was only looking away to distract herself, but it was fitting. That, and the scenery behind her was spectacular: the moon reflecting against the calm lake and the bird he saw earlier spreading out its wings.  
  
_Click!_  
  
Hermione snapped her head towards him.  
  
  
  
He nodded.  
  
Okay. Let's see it then.  
  
Ron contemplated her demand for a moment before shaking his head. She gaped.  
  
Sorry, Hermione. An artist should never reveal his work.  
  
Until it's finished. She added.  
  
Ron nodded, knowingly.  
  
That may be the case in the Muggle world, but it definitely does not apply to the Wizarding world.  
  
She sniffed and snatched the device away.  
  
I hate you, Ron Weasley.  
  
What, that's it? No smart retort? Just I hate you, Ron Weasley'? he clicked his tongue and shook his head, Wow. I'm not sure who'll benefit from this more--me or Harry.  
  
It wasn't long before Ron found himself trying to dodge the raging wrath of Hermione Granger and her wand.  
  
________ _i, 140204_   
  
As you've noticed by now, this is a Ron/Hermione/Draco. Hum ... I really don't know if I want to make it Draco/Hermione anymore. Suggestions or opinions anybody?  
  
I realise that this was incredibly short, but my muse faded before I could take advantage of it. I've no idea when the next update is, but Draco should make his grand entrance in the next chapter.  
  
And despite my lack of interest for Valentine's Day--more like my total abhorrence towards it--I've written _several_ drabbles. Actually, some of them I don't really consider drabbles'. Do keep in mind, however, that not all of them focus on D/Hr. Most of them do. There's also a little snippet of the next chapter of _The Broomstick_. Located at my Livejournal.


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